Use Me, Morana

Nikolai's Point of View

I had never felt this way before.

Never.

Not once in my life had I felt the raw, primal urge to protect someone—not like this.

Not with this kind of intensity.

Yet, as I held Morana in my arms, her fragile body trembling against me, I felt it. It coiled around my chest, squeezed at my ribs, made my fingers tighten around her like a silent vow.

A vow I hadn't even spoken yet, but felt deep in my bones.

My jaw clenched as I listened to her sobs, each one striking a part of me I didn't even know existed.

Those bastards.

Those worthless, disgusting bastards.

I didn't need to hear the details to know she had suffered. I had seen suffering before—I had inflicted suffering before.

But never had I hated so violently on behalf of someone else.

I wanted to destroy them.

The ones who had laid a hand on her.

The ones who had broken her.